


On a Moonless Night

by sneetchstar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Guinevere and the knights get it on, Multi, Porn With Very Little Plot, because reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9611051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: Darkness training for the knights turns into something else when Queen Guinevere shows up.





	

“Good sirs, I thought you might like something to warm your insides.”

At her voice, four heads turn to see the shape of their queen walking towards them with a tray. “Hot mulled wine,” she explains, stopping near a small table at the side of the training field and offering them the mugs from her tray.

“My lady, you should not wait upon us, especially at this hour,” Sir Leon protests, but he takes a cup.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Well, since my dear husband has insisted on doing some training in the dark, the least I can do is make it pleasant for you. Merlin, I have some for you as well,” she calls to the half-asleep servant, leaning on a tent pole. He groggily comes over and takes a cup with a mutter of thanks.

“Need to be sharp, even when we cannot see,” Arthur explains, downing his mug and setting it on the table where Gwen has set the tray. He then walks to her and pulls her into his arms, a rare display of open affection in front of his men.

“Arthur!” she exclaims, a little embarrassed. When he dips his head to kiss her, she is further surprised. When his warm, wet tongue demands entrance into her mouth, she pushes ineffectively at his shoulders.

 _Well, it is just Leon, Gwaine and Percival. And Merlin_. She idly thinks, giving in to her husband’s ardor. Then Arthur’s hand slides down her back to first cup, then grip her backside, and she squeaks in protest. He hauls her against the hard planes of his body, and already she can feel the beginnings of his arousal.

“Did you bring some wine for yourself?” Arthur finally asks, releasing only her lips, but trailing his down her neck now.

“Arthur, what are you… no, I didn’t…” Gwen feels like her head is spinning. _Wine? Who needs wine?_

“She can have the rest of mine,” Percival offers, stepping over with his mug. “I do not get cold.”

“I’ve got some left, too,” Gwaine says. “We cannot have our queen catching a chill.” He takes Percival’s mug and adds the rest of his wine to it. Then he holds it to Gwen’s lips, inviting her to drink while Arthur kisses down her neck to the tops of her breasts, unclasping her cloak as he does so. “Here, my lady. Let’s get something hot inside you, shall we?” Gwaine rumbles, his voice low. A seduction in itself.

Overwhelmed and mindless, Gwen drinks from the mug as Gwaine tips it to her lips. She drinks and drinks, swallowing greedily. She doesn’t notice another hand sliding around her body, caressing her backside, until it’s too late.

Gwaine continues to hold the mug, but Gwen can’t keep up and some wine spills over, down her neck. Arthur laps it up, making greedy, hungry noises as he does so.

Then Gwen feels another pair of lips sucking the wine off of the other side of her neck, a pair of lips surrounded by a short, soft beard.

Gwaine removes the mug, deciding she’s had enough. Then he leans in and boldly kisses her on the lips, worming his way in between Arthur and Leon.

Gwen startles at first, but Arthur’s reassuring hand at her breast while he sucks at her nipple through the fabric of her gown makes her relax into Gwaine’s kiss. He introduces his tongue and she whimpers in the back of her throat, her knees going weak.

Then she feels a large, warm presence behind her and yet another pair of lips first kisses, then nips the edge of her ear. Then he slicks his tongue along the outer shell, his warm breath fanning her cheek.

“Oh…” she moans, pulling her lips away from Gwaine’s. _What is going on here? And… oh my… where is Merlin?_

Gwen opens her eyes to peer through the four men surrounding her, kissing, touching, fondling her until she sees Merlin leaning back against the tent pole again. Only now he is wide awake, his blue eyes bright in the dim light of the single torch. Her eyes drop to his groin, and she can see that he is fully aroused and his hand is idly rubbing himself through the fabric of his trousers.

“Tent,” Arthur croaks, and Gwen finds herself lifted off her feet and carried into the nearby tent. Percival has the honor, and he is carrying her as if she weighed nothing.

He sets her gently on the soft ground, in an area covered in skins and blankets. She is too dazed to wonder why the equipment tent is set up this way and instead she just stares up at her knights, her breathing heavy. She is warm and already slickly wet between her legs.

“What…?” she starts to ask when nothing happens other than Arthur, the three knights, and Merlin staring down at her. _Suddenly I feel as though I am the main course at a banquet._

“Shh, Guinevere,” Arthur is the first to speak. He drops to his knees beside her and starts unlacing her dress. “Just enjoy it, Love.”

 _Enjoy what?_ is the last coherent thought she has before her corset is opened and discarded.

“Do you treasure this dress?” Arthur asks, trailing his fingers over the exposed parts of her breasts.

“No,” Gwen breathes, hoping – fearing – hoping what she thinks is about to happen.

“Percival,” Arthur says, leaning back and away from her to allow the largest of his knights to crouch down close to Gwen.

Percival drops to his knees over her, straddling her thighs. He regards her silently a moment, drinking in her beauty, her arousal, her undeniable femininity, so fragile yet so strong all at once.

It is a heady mix, one that has been overwhelming them all for too long now. Arthur deserves no less than her, they know this. None of them feel worthy of her, but they have all loved her, all wanted her, for as long as each of them has known her.

Even noble and proper Leon, who has known her as far back as he can remember.

She is Arthur’s, there is no denying that. Her heart and soul belong to him, just as his belong to her.

Her body, however, will be shared, on this blackest of autumn nights, where there is no moon to bear witness.

Percival leans down and presses his warm, moist lips to her forehead once, kissing softly. One of Gwen’s hands ventures up to touch his arm and it turns into a caress, stroking the powerful, rippling muscles there.

Someone pulls Gwen’s shoes from her feet, and even runs a finger along her sole, making her jump slightly.

_Probably Gwaine._

Percival leans back and grasps the neckline of her dress in two hands, his long, thick fingers grazing the soft flesh of her breasts as he does so. He looks directly into her dark, passion-glazed eyes and pulls, tearing the garment down the front in one long _rip_ , exposing her to the night and their eyes.

“Holy fuck.” She thinks it’s Gwaine, cursing his appreciation. She also hears Leon’s sharp intake of breath and Percival’s low whistle as he stands again, his massive erection threatening to tear his trousers.

“Take your arms out of the sleeves.”

Arthur’s command is low and soft, sultry, even, but it is still a command. One that Guinevere cannot but obey. She pulls her arms from the sleeves and shifts slightly as someone – Merlin? – pulls her ruined dress out from under her.

She can feel soft fur beneath her, tickling her skin. She can see the faces of Arthur and the others staring appreciatively and hungrily down at her. She can hear their breathing as well as her own heartbeat. She can smell the tallow of the few candles; she can smell the scent of her own arousal mixing with the men’s. She can still taste the wine as well as Arthur and Gwaine on her tongue.

Arthur moves first, still lounging beside her. The others move to the floor, and it is only then that Gwen notices that the area of furs and rugs and blankets is quite large.

Large enough for all of them.

She also notices that none of them are wearing chain mail, only soft linen shirts and trousers. Except for Gwaine, who has somehow already lost his shirt.

Arthur pulls off his boots and stretches out beside her, hooking a leg over hers, sliding his hand across her flat stomach. “Just enjoy,” he repeats, whispering against her lips just before he claims them, kissing deeply, driving her to mindlessness again. His hand creeps up to cup her bare breast, thumb sliding across her nipple, taut from both the cool air and her arousal. Her hand reaches up, clutching at his white shirt – of course he’s wearing the white shirt – in her fist, tugging him closer, tugging the shirt, willing it off of his body, willing it to disintegrate beneath her fingers.

Arthur leans back suddenly and whips the shirt off over his head. He yanks his trousers off while he’s at it, and seconds later his naked body is pressed against her side, leaning half over her.

If Gwen were to open her eyes she would see the others absentmindedly removing their clothes as well, their eyes glued to Arthur and Gwen as they kiss and caress in the center of the rugs. Arthur’s lips leave hers, but they are immediately replaced by another set.

_Gwaine._

Arthur kisses down to her breast, sucking, flicking his tongue against her stiff nipple. Then Gwen feels another mouth at her other breast, gentler, lavishing attention, almost worshipful.

_Percival._

Gwaine releases her lips to give them to Leon, decadence giving way to perfection. Gwaine kissed like a starving man at a banquet, making Gwen feel as though she was the most desirable and beautiful creature in the world; she could feel his kiss racing through her body, scorching through her womanhood and straight down to her toes. Leon’s kisses are sweet and precise, as if he’s practiced kissing her for days and knows each soft crevice of her mouth, knows where the sensitive places are that make her thread her fingers into his soft curls and tug.

It is Arthur’s hand she feels caressing her thigh, coaxing her open for him. For them. It is Arthur’s hand that first touches her, Arthur who releases her breast just long enough to gasp a reverent curse at how wet he finds her.

 _Where is Merlin?_ Leon releases her lips for a moment and Gwen struggles to look around. “Merlin…” she calls, her voice breathy and hoarse.

He steps into view, his shirt off but trousers still on. Gwen is surprised to find his chest more muscular than she would have thought, slender and sinewy. He says nothing, just watching.

“Merlin,” she beckons, writhing beneath all the attention of the four Knights of Camelot.

“I am not worthy of you,” Merlin’s barest whisper seems to echo through the tent.

“Yes, you are. I want you, too, Merlin. Come.”

Deep murmurs of agreement sound all around her.

Merlin stands rooted to the spot, as if he is surprised the men want him to join in the decadence of worshipping their queen’s body. Then he suddenly whips off his trousers and steps forward, settling by Gwen’s legs.

Gwaine and Percival have switched places, Gwaine at her breast now, Percival kissing her lips. Gwen is always surprised at the giant man’s gentility. It’s as if he knows he could crush a person’s skull just by closing his hand around it, so he takes extra care. His kiss is slow, languid, making Gwen feel cherished and warm.

Leon is at her breast while Arthur feathers kisses across her stomach, his fingers tracing small circles on her clit. He dips his tongue into her navel just as Merlin lifts her left foot and brings it to his lips.

“Oh…” Gwen moans, squirming. _This is too much. This is… not enough._ Merlin kisses each of her toes, then drags his tongue up the sole of her foot, tracing the path that Gwaine’s finger so mischievously took earlier. Merlin sucks her toes into his mouth, rubbing her foot with his hands, pressing in what feels like very specific places. “Ah…” she gasps as Merlin presses his thumb into the center of her heel while slicking his tongue between her toes.

Gwen moans again, her hips writhing beneath Arthur’s hand, silently begging for more.

“Give it to her, Sire,” Gwaine says roughly. “She needs something hot inside her,” he adds, looking up from her breast to smirk at her.

Gwen grabs his hair and pulls his head to hers, kissing him roughly for just a second.

Gwaine curses as Percival shoves him away so that he can resume kissing her, which he does, making a contented noise in the back of his throat.

Arthur begins to move over Gwen, when a soft voice stills him.

“Wait.”

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, cocking an eyebrow at him. Merlin returns the expression and then leans forward, sliding up Gwen’s legs.

He licks his lips, places a kiss on her inner thigh, and then buries his head between her legs, his tongue darting out to taste her. Gwen tears her lips from Percival’s and cries out.

“Yes…” Arthur hisses, fisting himself in his hand as he kneels beside Gwen. She reaches out and replaces his hand with her own, squeezing and stroking in time with Merlin’s tongue as it laves her wet flesh, swollen with need. He circles around her clit and she moans. He slips his tongue deep inside of her, as deep as he can. She sighs a delicious sigh, and Merlin squeezes his eyes shut as the unbidden surge of magic rushes through him. Gwen feels it and moans, but she doesn’t know it’s magic she’s feeling.

“Oh, Merlin,” she sighs. He is relentless, never tiring, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy.

Then he stops, leaving her quivering, waiting.

“By the gods, you taste incredible,” Merlin says, smacking his lips appreciatively.

“Merlin…” Gwen moans, a needy edge to her voice.

“Let me see,” Gwaine says, talking over Gwen’s plea. He grabs Merlin and kisses him, open mouthed, sucking Gwen’s juices from his lips. “Oh, fuck, you’re right.”

Arthur takes this opportunity to slip in between his wife’s thighs, absently shoving Merlin out of the way, glancing with a slightly puzzled expression as Merlin and Gwaine continue to kiss, Gwaine’s hand sliding on Merlin’s erection now.

“Arthur…” Gwen whispers, her lips free for the moment as Percival has moved to her vacated breast, squeezing it lightly with his hand while he suckles her. On the other side, Leon is moving his hips slightly because he’s realized Gwen’s now-free hand is reaching for his cock.

“Guinevere,” Arthur murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. He bends down, places a scorching kiss on her lips that makes her back arch, pressing her breast into Percival’s mouth.

“I need you inside me,” Gwen moans, sliding her legs against his hips.

“I know,” Arthur says, dropping his hips and plunging swiftly inside her. He groans.

“Yes!” Gwen exclaims, squeezing Leon’s member in her hand. Her shout brings Merlin and Gwaine out of their little private party and back to Gwen, Merlin moving to Gwen’s breast now while Gwaine decides to try her toes, picking up her right foot. Leon is lounging close by, letting Gwen’s hand stroke him. She reaches for Percival with her other hand.

“Oh… Arthur…” she moans, meeting his hips with her own, reveling in the feel of him as he slides in and out, in and out. “Oh, Percival!” she exclaims when her hand finds his swollen member.

 _It feels as thick as my wrist_. Gwen longs to see it, but settles for groping it, running her palm over it, finding the spot of wetness at the end with her thumb.

Gwaine, having finished with her foot, slides his hand up her leg, seemingly heedless of Arthur’s thrusts, and reaches up, up, until his fingers are rubbing at her clit while Arthur pounds into her.

She explodes almost immediately, crying out loudly, clamping her legs around Arthur’s waist. He thrusts three more times and stills, his seed surging into her with a hoarsely shouted curse.

Gently he eases out of her, bends to kiss her knee, then moves aside. “Leon, I believe you have the honors next?” Arthur says, his eyes on Gwen’s hand working his First Knight’s cock.

“I do,” Leon grunts. Arthur pulls up a chair and sits nearby.

“Arthur?” Gwen asks, holding her hand out to him.

He takes it and kisses her knuckles, then her palm. “I want to watch you, my love. I want to watch them take you. All of them.” He kisses her hand one more time and releases it. “I’ll be right here watching you, my beauty, my love,” he tells her softly. In the recesses of his mind, he is glad that Lancelot is dead right now. He also realizes that it is probably for the best that Elyan is dead as well.

The head of Leon’s cock is sliding along Gwen’s folds, now caressing her, drawing her back out, readying her for him. She moans, her attention reverting back. Merlin’s lips are still at her breast, and Gwen marvels at how skilled his mouth is. _Who would have thought it?_ Gwaine has maneuvered up to kiss Gwen, moving around the mountain of Percival, who is still in Gwen’s grasp.

“Let me see you,” Gwen lifts her head to look at Leon, at all of them. “I want to see you all.”

She reaches over and touches Merlin’s manhood, just a bit smaller than Arthur’s, paler, but no less magnificent. She drags her finger down its length and he jumps. She looks at Leon’s, proud and straight, and bites her lower lip. Gwaine’s is large with a curious slight curve to it that intrigues Gwen, and she idly wonders if that’s the secret to his popularity with the ladies. Finally, Percival, clutched in her hand still. She licks her lips.

Horses wish they were hung like Percival. “I want that in my mouth,” she whispers, her eyes flitting to his momentarily. “You are all beautiful,” she tells them, “truly.”

Then Gwen lifts up and turns over, on her hands and knees, pointing her backside at Leon, who groans and slides his palms along her firm, round cheeks before slipping a finger inside her.

“Come here, Percival,” she says, beckoning to him. He moves around to kneel in front of her, his erect member suspended in front of her. She opens her mouth wide, and just as she places her lips around him, Leon thrusts into her from behind, gripping her hips.

“Mmm,” she moans, her mouth fuller than it has ever been. Leon’s thrusts propel her forward on Percival’s cock, doing the work for her. Percival’s head drops back and he groans loudly, overcome with the notion that his queen has her lips around him. Plus she is really good at it.

Someone’s hand slips between Gwen’s legs to stroke her. She knows it’s not Leon, she can clearly feel his large, slender hands gripping tight to her hips, and she knows somewhere deep down that his handprints will likely linger there for a few days.

“Oh, yeah.” It’s Gwaine, his hand is the one teasing Gwen from beneath, and she realizes he is lying on his back beneath her, watching Leon move in and out of her while he helps by flicking her clit with his fingers.

Gwen whimpers around Percival’s girth, pulling back and swirling her tongue around the tip, even balancing on one hand momentarily to reach up and cup his balls in her hand.

“Please…” Percival groans, but Gwen doesn’t know if he means please stop or please continue. She wants to continue, so she drops her hand back down and lets Leon push her mouth over Percival again. “Oh…” he grunts. “Stop, I don’t want to come…”

Gwen releases him, kisses his tip and then drops her head down, letting it hang between her shoulders. She sees Gwaine lounging below her, and he turns his head to grin devilishly at her. Suddenly Merlin is there, capturing her lips with his, kissing her with everything he has, and she explodes again, tearing her lips away from Merlin.

“Ah! Oh, yes!” she screams out just as Leon is groaning her name.

Leon looses his grip on her hips and slides his hands up her body, cupping her breasts as he place soft kisses on her back. Gwaine moves out of the way and they collapse; Leon slips out of her, kisses her shoulder blade, and mutters, “Thank you, my lady. I will never forget this.”

 _Always so proper, Leon._ Gwen stretches a moment, willing life back into her limbs, not realizing her languid stretching is only further enflaming her companions. She rolls over and stretches on her back next. She opens her eyes and sees Arthur, his eyes shining and dark, unmoving as a statue apart from his hand slowly stroking his cock, now erect again.

“That was hot,” Arthur says. “Gwaine, make my wife scream your name,” he orders quietly.

“With pleasure,” Gwaine says. He’s still lying on his back, only now he has his hands back behind his head, his ankles crossed. He looks very smug and very sexy, his perfect body glistening with a slight sheen of sweat. “Come here, Esmeralda,” he beckons, making her come to him.

“Always so confident, Sir Gwaine,” Gwen purrs, crawling over to him.

“I want you to ride me like I have a saddle strapped to me,” he drawls, pulling her over him, dragging her up his body to take a breast into his mouth.

“Oh, I like being on top,” she gasps, delving her fingers into his hair, holding his head.

She can feel his grin against her breast, and she can also feel another set of hands stroking her skin, a set of lips on her backside.

 _Merlin’s hands. Percival’s lips._ Leon is watching with Arthur, spent for the moment, enjoying the show.

“Does the Princess let you be on top?” Gwaine asks, surfacing from her breasts, sliding her lower, relishing the slick of wetness on his stomach, a mixture of Gwen, Arthur and Leon.

“The Princess lets me do whatever I want,” she whispers, teasing his lips with her own. “I can be on top.” She kisses him. “I can tie him up.” She kisses him again. “I can spank him till his arse is red.” She kisses him again, long and deep. “Whatever. I. Want.” She leans down and licks his neck.

“Bloody hell, I would, too,” Gwaine croaks out, coming unglued for once in his life, the images in his head overwhelming him. “Fuck, I need to be inside you, you are too delectable,” he growls, moving her lower still until he can feel her, hot and moist, against his cock.

Gwen reaches down, strokes him a few times, just to tease him, and moves him into position, sliding down, being deliberately slow about it.

“Oh…” she moans long and low, wiggling her hips, settling in. Gwaine’s eyes roll back in his head and his mouth goes slack.

“How can you still be so tight?” he wonders aloud, shifting his hips, trying to coax her to move.

“Mmm,” Gwen says, rocking slowly, bracing her hands on Gwaine’s beautiful chest. Then she starts to move, up and down, enjoying the feel of him inside her, that slight curve hitting her just _there_.

Merlin materializes behind her, also straddling Gwaine’s thighs, and he slides his hands around her, moving with her, helping her move. She can feel his manhood against her rear and presses back against it while she moves. Merlin’s hands close over her bouncing breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, adding another layer of sensation.

Gwen’s eyes open and she sees Gwaine beneath her, breathing heavily, his one hand stroking her thigh, his other grasping Percival beside them, slowly moving his hand on him, almost absently. She can feel Merlin behind her, his lips on her neck, his hands on her breasts. One of his hands snakes down to touch her, but before he gets there she gasps and digs her nails into Gwaine’s chest.

He growls and slams his hips up into her and she cries out in earnest now. “Oh, Gwaine!”

Gwaine grins like a fiend, grips her hips, likely adding a second set of handprints, and thrusts upward, deep and hard. Then he comes, almost violently, and she swears she can feel the heat of his seed filling her, adding itself to the others.

Gwen bends down and kisses him. “Now I understand your appeal,” she whispers.

“You didn’t just scream my name because that’s what Arthur wanted, did you?” he asks, his fingers softly caressing her face.

“Oh, no. I had even told myself that I _wasn’t_ going to do that. But then I did anyway.” She grins and even giggles at him.

“You are magnificent, my lady queen,” Gwaine says, kissing her with remarkable sweetness.

Gwen smiles again and rolls away from him, back to the center, looking expectantly between Merlin and Percival.

“Percival,” Arthur’s voice splits the darkness. Gwen gazes at her husband again to see him still stroking himself, only now there’s more urgency to it.

“No, Sire,” Percival says. “Merlin needs to go before me. I have to be last.” He looks down at his manhood, which has been erect for so long now that Gwen is sure he must be in pain.

“I don’t need a turn,” Merlin says. “I have already gotten what I desired.”

“Merlin,” Gwen says, taking his hand and pulling him over to her. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“You deserve better,” Merlin says, torn.

“She deserves better than all of us,” Arthur says quietly, his hand momentarily stilling. “Even me.” Merlin looks over at Arthur, surprised. “The queen wants your cock, Merlin. Do not deny her what she wants.”

“Gwen,” Merlin whispers reverently, letting her pull him over her, pulling his soft, full lips to hers, convincing him with her lips instead of her words.

Merlin gives in, kissing her ardently, and once again Gwen is surprised at his skill.

“Merlin,” she gasps, and his lips trail down her neck. “You’re full of surprises.” He sweeps his tongue through the hollow at the base of her throat.

Percival and Gwaine have rejoined them, as has a refreshed Leon, and all Gwen feels are hands and lips, the occasional bristle of a beard, the delicious friction of a sword-callus.

Gwaine finds a breast again, and Percival finally gets a chance to touch Gwen’s womanhood, his thick fingers remarkably nimble.

“Ah… Merlin… please…” Gwen is begging now, her body overheated, oversexed, overwhelmed, and still needing more.

Instead of nestling between her legs, he turns her on her side and spoons up behind her, taking her top leg and pulling it back over his.

“Ooo,” she coos as he slides into her from behind, slender and nimble, his arm wrapped around her waist and his lips on her neck.

Percival continues tracing small circles on her clit while Merlin makes his deep, slow thrusts, determined to take his time, take this one chance to show Gwen how he feels without using words.

Leon closes his lips around one of her breasts, now over-sensitive and practically raw from all the attention. He is gentle, reverent, never biting or sucking too hard. Perfect, how he is always perfect.

Gwaine is kissing her now, and Merlin is nibbling at her ear, sucking the small lobe into his mouth and biting just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Merlin,” she moans around Gwaine’s kisses. “Harder,” she begs.

“Harder?” Merlin says, his lips brushing her ear. “You want harder?”

“Yes!” she gasps. He complies, thrusting harder. Harder than she would have thought him capable, actually. “Oh, yes!” she cries out again, grabbing his firm backside.

“You like that?” he asks, still right in her ear.

“Yes,” Arthur answers.

“Yes!” Gwen agrees, panting. Percival’s skilled fingers pick up their pace as well, and she moans.

Merlin knows he could make this mind-blowingly amazing for her with just the flash of his eyes, but he resists that particular temptation, controls it this time, knowing that it would neither be prudent nor fair. Instead he relies on his years of pent-up lust for his best friend and queen, and pounds into her like he’s punishing her for being so lovely and wonderful.

“Oh! Gods! Merlin!” she screams, her grip on his backside tightening, trying to still him lest she burn into ash and cinder right there in the tent. But he does not relent, driving for a whole minute longer before he finally releases with a strangled groan that sounds vaguely like Gwen’s name.

“Goodness,” Gwen sighs, releasing her grip on both Merlin’s rear and Leon’s head, which she hadn’t even realized she’d grabbed, practically smothering him in her breasts. “Sorry, Leon,” she whispers.

“I can think of worse ways to go,” he mutters dryly, grinning shyly at her.

“Merlin, mate, who would have thought it?” Gwaine says, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Stop,” Merlin says, embarrassed by all the praise, kissing Gwen’s shoulder, only once, but softly and slowly. He gently untangles himself from her and turns her face so he can kiss her lips.

“Wow,” Gwen says, just a whisper against his lips.

“Are you ready for me, my lady?” Percival asks quietly. “If you don’t want to, or don’t think you can, I’ll understand.”

 _Oh, Percival._ “I want you, Percival. I want to know what that giant cock feels like inside me. And I’m not talking about my mouth this time.” She looks up at Arthur. He must have come at some point during her time with Merlin, because he is no longer hard. His face is still just as intent, ever watchful.

“I love you, Arthur,” Gwen says suddenly, reaching out to touch his knee. She scoots over and kisses his thigh, just above the knee, and sees the wetness remaining on his leg from his release minutes ago. She lifts up on her knees and licks the spot.

“I love you, too, Guinevere. More than I can say. And I will take what is mine again, once we are back in our chambers,” he says softly, stroking her cheek. “Now go to Percival.”

She kisses his leg again and scoots back over towards Percival. “You will let me know if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Gwen says, leaning up to kiss him. Off to the side, she vaguely notes that Gwaine and Merlin are dallying again, Gwaine likely having been impressed with Merlin’s surprising prowess.

_I never realized that Gwaine was attracted to men as well. Perhaps it’s just Merlin… no, he was touching Percival before, too._

Percival kneels between Gwen’s legs, looming large over her. Leon is hovering nearby, trailing his fingers up and down her arm, making the skin tingle beneath his rough fingers.

Percival drops down, bracing on his hands as he kisses her tenderly. Leon moves his hand down, sliding his fingers around, slipping them inside, teasing, opening her up, readying her for Percival’s intrusion.

“All you have to say is stop,” Percival whispers, clearly unsure. “You’re so small…”

“Go,” Gwen says, lifting her hips to him. “I’ve been staring at that glorious thing all night. I need it…”

He lowers himself down, gripping his length, positioning himself at her entrance. He eases into her, slowly, gradually. He closes his eyes with the effort of moving slow.

“Oohhhhhhh…” Gwen moans, arching backwards as he fills her fuller than she’s ever been. Her knees drop wide and he slides farther still, sheathing himself almost to the hilt.

“Almost,” he whispers, kissing her cheek.

“Alm… oh, gods…”

Percival pushes in more, finally seating himself fully inside her. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” she breathes, pressing her hips up into him. “Oh, yes,” she adds once he starts to move.

“How does he feel, Guinevere?” Arthur’s soft question reaches her ears.

“Oh…” she gasps with each thrust, each one less careful than the one before. “So… full… so… good…”

Arthur groans. And Percival groans, nearly overcome. He keeps his pace, steady and smooth, with just the right amount of _thrust_ to make the friction delicious.

Leon is at her breast, tongue licking and flicking and swirling, and moments later, Gwaine is at her other breast. Gwen opens her eyes to see Merlin sitting on the floor, leaning on Arthur’s chair. Absently, Arthur’s fingers pick through Merlin’s hair, both their eyes glued on Guinevere.

“Percival…” Gwen whispers, bringing her knees higher, hugging his narrow hips. She extends her arms, reaching over Leon’s and Gwaine’s heads to touch Percival’s massive, broad chest, the beautiful muscles straining and flexing beneath her fingers.

“My lady,” he gasps roughly, “you amaze me.”

Gwen sighs and writhes, her body starting to quiver under the assault of the three men. Percival takes her legs in his hands and places them up against his chest, allowing him to sink in even deeper.

“Oohhhhhhh…” Gwen moans again, long and low and hoarse, her fingers gripping Gwaine’s and Leon’s hair as they continue to worship her over-stimulated breasts.

Percival’s thrusts grow stronger, more confident now that he knows he’s not going to break Gwen, and in seconds Gwen is screaming, wordless, her body arching up from the furs on the floor.

Percival falters a moment, distracted by the display in front of him, but then finds his rhythm again, thrusting a half-dozen more times before pushing in deep and hard, coming with a massive growl between gritted teeth.

He sinks down, moving her legs down as well, and eases out of her with impossible gentleness.

Gwen brings Leon up for a soft, slow kiss, then Gwaine, who kisses her with the same hunger as always, almost as though he still hasn’t had his fill of her. Then she beckons Percival forward, and he prowls over her body to receive her kiss, sweet and ardent.

“Merlin,” she calls, and Merlin leaves Arthur’s side to kiss his queen, deep and wanting and full of unexpected fire.

Arthur comes over unbidden, tilts her chin up to him and kisses her until her toes curl and her hands clutch at his shoulders.

To one side, Merlin makes certain that no one is looking as he stares intently at Gwen’s abdomen, his eyes flashing gold for the briefest moment.

Gwen starts to pull Arthur down over her, but then she remembers his promise for later and releases him, smiling lovingly at him for just a minute.

Then she lies back down in the center of the five men, closes her eyes, mutters, “I love you all…” and falls immediately asleep, exhausted from her exertions.

 

xXx

 

When she wakes, she’s back in her marriage bed, naked, with Arthur spooned behind her. The sky is still dark. She can feel his sleeping erection against her backside, and suddenly she remembers.

 _Did I dream that or did it really happen?_ She touches her breasts, finding her nipples raw and sensitive, but still responsive to even her own touch. She pulls the covers back and sees two handprints, Leon’s and Gwaine’s, burned into her hip, and assumes her other hip looks much the same.

Her hand strays down from her breasts, and she notices her belly seems warmer than it usually is. _Odd,_ she thinks, but the thought is gone once she dips her hand between her thighs and finds that she is wet and sticky. Very. But her fingers linger, her womanhood aching as though she didn’t just lie with five men a few short hours ago, and she squirms against them, an unchecked sigh dropping from her lips.

“Guinevere,” Arthur complains, reaching for the blankets that she’s thrown back. Gwen takes his hand and moves it to her breast. “Mmm…”

“You owe me something, my king,” she says. “You made me a promise, and I can feel that at least part of you is willing to make good.”

Suddenly she is flipped on her back and he is over her, poised and ready. “You are mine in every way, you know that, right?” he asks, kissing her.

“Just as you are mine,” Gwen says, nodding.

“I shared you tonight because I wished it so.”

“I know.”

“Whether or not it happens again is up to me alone,” he declares.

“Of course,” Gwen says, but she knows that _he_ knows that that’s not entirely true. “Make love to me, Husband,” she says, trailing her fingers down his chest to grip his manhood, stroking it until he grunts, trembling.

“As you wish, my queen,” he whispers, lowering both his lips and his hips.

 

xXx

 

When the son Guinevere bears nine months later grows into a man, he is fair and just, steadfast and loyal, gentle and kind, intelligent and sympathetic, yet mischievous and clever. He is unbeatable in battle. He is also exceptionally tall and broad, with tawny skin offset by dark blonde curls and blue eyes streaked with gray. Eyes that occasionally flash gold.


End file.
